


They Are All Withered

by Small_Hobbit



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Community: holmes_minor, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 05:24:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13606464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Small_Hobbit/pseuds/Small_Hobbit
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is consulted by Ophelia Polonius





	They Are All Withered

**Author's Note:**

> Written for LJs Holmes Minor 'Violets' Challenge

The young woman, seated in the chair in front of us, clasped between her fingers a small posy of violets.  They must have withered some time before, but it appeared she had no intention of letting them go as she nervously twisted the stalks.  
  
“I don’t know what to do, Mr Holmes,” she began.  “They are saying my father met with an accident, but I am not convinced.  He was always so careful.”  
  
“Accidents do happen, Miss…” Holmes paused.  
  
“Polonius.  Ophelia Polonius.”  
  
“Miss Polonius.  But I can see you have grounds for suspicion.  Would you like to tell me what they are?”  
  
“They had already wired to my brother – here’s studying in Cambridge – some time before they told me of my father’s death.  Had it been an accident they would have told me sooner.”  
  
“Perhaps they wished your brother to be present when they told you,” I suggested.  
  
“But then, why didn’t they wait for his return?” she asked.  “And also I have not seen my young man since the accident.”  
  
“Your fiancé?” Holmes asked.  
  
“No, we are not yet engaged.  But there was an understanding between us, and both families were happy with the match.  Except…”  
  
“There is a problem,” Holmes said quietly.  
  
“He has been acting strangely on occasions recently.  His humours seem to be at odds with his words.  He appears calm, yet makes spiteful remarks, or speaks loving words whilst in a rage.  Could he have been involved in some way?”  
  
“From the flowers you are holding I believe you already suspect the truth,” Holmes said.  
  
She looked down at the sorry posy, which had already lost half its petals.  “Why do you say that?”  
  
“Because violets stand for faithfulness or fidelity.  And you believe, with your father’s death, this has been destroyed.”  
  
“You are right, Mr Holmes.  But what should I do?”  
  
“You are not yet of age, I think.  Following your father’s death, will your brother become your guardian, or will it be someone else?”  
  
“My brother is not yet twenty-one, so until he reaches his birthday it will be the step-father of the young man I was speaking of.”  
  
“Do you have any other relatives you could turn to?”  
  
“I have an aunt who lives in Finchley.”  
  
“Then I suggest you go there.  Dr Watson will accompany you.”  
  
I was not certain what Holmes expected to happen, but I had no hesitation in escorting Miss Polonius to her aunt’s house.  The aunt was a formidable woman and I did not doubt her niece would be safe with her.  
  
A few days later Holmes showed me a short newspaper article, detailing the accidental drowning of Miss Ophelia Polonius, who had been temporarily overcome by grief at the death of her father.  He also showed me a telegram from Miss Polonius’ aunt, which said simply <BALDERDASH. O QUITE WELL. MAN’S AFTER HER MONEY. PLEASE INVESTIGATE>  
  
“Will you take the case?” I asked.  
  
“With the greatest of pleasure.”


End file.
